


Midnight

by honeymoonmuke



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: ?? is that a thing lmao, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Best Friends, Friendship, Lack of Communication, M/M, Mutual Pining, sleepy feelings, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-08 05:50:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11075346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeymoonmuke/pseuds/honeymoonmuke
Summary: Stiles and Derek spend the night together, neither of them aware of the others' feelings...





	Midnight

**Author's Note:**

> just a small drabble-like piece about sleepy!sterek pining after one another...I hope you enjoy!

Derek is perhaps the most beautiful man Stiles has ever laid eyes on.

With a cushioned duvet gathered beneath his chin and a slightly lopsided expression pulled across his lips, he’s the definition of serenity. The harsh lines that so often cut across his face are relaxed, leaving his skin with an uncharacteristic glow that seems to stretch the length of the room.

Stiles closes his eyes and takes a moment to focus on the sounds of Derek’s chest rising and falling. It follows a steady pulse, his breathing an interesting mix of shallow and deep that leaves Stiles grinning, listening to the thrums of thought being exhaled through Derek’s open mouth every other second.

The younger boy has never been too jealous of Scott, but in this moment he’d give anything to have the remarkable hearing that his friend so easily possesses. He imagines the clenching and unclenching of Derek’s heart to be just as comforting as the constant of his breathing, and he suddenly feels an uncanny urge to lean forwards and press his weak ears against Derek’s hard pad of a chest.

_If only…_

Stiles takes note of the way Derek’s hand rests firmly on his waist, the grip neither soft nor hard enough. It lies against his skin heavily but there is no force behind the intimate gesture. When they’d slipped beneath the covers together and Derek had tenderly posed the question, Stiles had expected the grip to be firmer, somehow. But alas, the maturer of the two decided to keep it light. Stiles supposes it was a gesture of some sort...a reminder that he’s free to leave whenever he wishes, but at the moment he finds it nothing more than an inconvenience to have Derek so close but still so far away.

If not for the uncertainty hanging in the air, he’d inch closer and snuggle into the side of the warm one that’s just a few centimetres to his right. An urgent craving flashes through his veins as Stiles wishes for nothing more than the ability to curl into Derek’s chest and sleep there - contentedly - for the rest of his life.

Delirious with fatigue, Stiles makes a plan: in the morning he’ll _finally_ tell Derek. He’ll tell him everything - from his soft desires to wrap a hand through the hair covering Derek’s nape and pull him close enough to collide his lips against his, to the cravings he so frequently possesses which _beg him_ to reach out and slip their hands together. The gentle touch would be enough, he thinks, to make the worries of the world melt away.

In the morning he’ll tell Derek…

_He will._

Stiles allows himself a final look - just _one more_ until he gives into his body and falls asleep. He’s been awake for an hour for the sole purpose of observing the sleeping figure beside him. He knows it’s creepy, but he can’t help it! Derek’s glistening in the moonlight that slips into the room through a crack in the blinds. _Glistening_. His skin is soft, lips curved to perfection, and hair the type of endearing mess that makes Stiles want to reach out and play with it.

It doesn’t take too long until the younger boy drifts off into the sleepy serenity of dreamland.

Approximately three hours later, Derek stirs.

He finds his eyelids flickering open, jumping as his gaze falls across the sleeping figure beside him. For a moment he’d forgotten about the way they’d crawled beneath the sheets together, hands clenched around one another.

Derek smiles as he notices his hand is still clutching Stiles’ waist. He’d been a little reluctant about the grip, battling between not wanting the boy to feel entrapped or stuck and the idea of wanting to have a physical connection to the person that sends his heart racing. In the end, he decided the emotional thirst was too tempting to leave unquenched.

He tightens his grip, feeling Stiles’ soft skin warm against his palm.

Derek’s eyes begin to move around the relaxed face in front of him, absorbing every detail as if it were the last image he’d ever see.

When he’d first fallen asleep, he’d been unsure of his plan for the following morning. However now, with such a fragile masterpiece laid out in front of him, it’s easy for him to formulate a foolproof plan:

He’ll start with the words, ‘ _hey, Stiles_ ’, and give him a coy smile. The younger boy will return the greeting, maybe adding a few words about the wonders of his sleep. Derek will continue, cutting straight to the chase with the phrase, ‘ _we should take this further, Stiles. Let’s stop pretending and acknowledge our feelings. It’s been two years of tentative friendship, I think it’s time we face up to the feelings we’ve both grown to posses_.’

Derek wants to believe the morning will go differently to...well, every other morning. It seems as though the countless nights he’s spent beside Stiles have all blurred into one long dream. He feels nothing but love for the tender boy beside him, but somehow voicing his thoughts has taken longer than he’d expected.

It’s not his fault, Derek excuses. Stiles looks _too goddamn perfect_ in the moonlight.

The gaps in the blind work to cast a sheer slice of cool light onto Stiles’ forehead, attracting all of Derek’s attention to the spot where his soft skin meets the loose waves of his hair. Oh, how Derek’s heart thrums with the desire to feel those glistening locks between his fingers, rubbing over the gentle fluffiness as the younger boy looks up to him with nothing but stars gazing back through his eyes.

_Desirable_. Stiles is completely, absolutely and utterly _desirable_.

Derek has never craved anything to such extremes than the tender way Stiles’ hands slot into his, or the gentle wisp of his lips brushing over Derek’s forehead. Frick, Stiles gives _the best_ forehead kisses… Everything about the boy leaves him quivering, constantly torn between the want to _do something_ and leave him be. He’d never want to hurt him - that’s the problem.

Derek’s scared of pushing Stiles into a love he isn’t looking for.

He certainly wasn’t looking for the feelings he’s stumbled - or, rather, been catapulted - into, but now he’s trapped in a world that consists of a little voice constantly screaming STILES!! At every given moment. It’s highly inconvenient, if you ask Derek. He’s unable to function properly without having a constant thought niggling at the back of his brain, reminding him of that soft touch Stiles manages to encapsulate so effortlessly easily.

It’s difficult to carry around a love that blazes so deeply through his soul that he’s afraid of burning those around him.

He manages it though, Derek does. Somehow, he’s able to pretend that Stiles is a friend when all the other signs try to convince him otherwise.

Not a moment goes by when he’s not wishing he didn’t possess the talent to shut off his heart. If he didn’t, he’s sure this would all be a lot easier.

Regardless, Derek knows he needs to sleep. He’s thinking too much. He’s an overthinker. It’s just difficult. During the night, Stiles looks so perfect with the beam of light branded across his forehead that it’s possible to imagine anything.

In the morning, Derek’ll tell him.

_He will._

However, midnight has the unfortunate skill of instilling false confidence.

When dawn breaks and the two boys find themselves awake, staring lazily into each other's’ eyes, neither of them say a word. An unspoken promise ripples through the air: what happened in the night stays in the night.

Sleep-fueled imaginations will have created nothing more than hopeless dreams and life will continue on as normal, neither of their hearts complete without the other.

The cruel sting of moonlight leaves a bitter twang raging through their veins.

Maybe someday their situation will change.

Maybe they’ll breach the gap between friends and something more than friends. Maybe they’ll fall asleep with Stiles curled so close to Derek that the boy can hear his steady, throbbing heart.

Or, _maybe_ , that day will simply never come.

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first piece that I've ever posted on AO3 and I'm still getting to understand the site so please excuse me if I've messed up the tags or anything ! I hope you liked this :) 
> 
> Tumblr - honeymoonmuke. Feel free to drop by and request anything!


End file.
